Grande vanilla latte with an extra shot of poopy, please

So the other day, I decided that I needed to get out of the house and do something other than run errands that just can't be avoided. I needed to escape the dishes and sticky floors. I needed a pick-me-up.

My mom had given me a Starbucks gift card for Valentine's Day (can I just say that my mom is the best and always knows how to give me just what I need to bring a little extra joy to my life?) Anyway, what better pick-me-up than a little relaxation on the patio, cup of caffeine in hand? Of course, Matt was working, so I had to bring the kids. No biggie--Jack got a vanilla milk and Jane sat on my lap and cooed while Jack and I talked and sipped. I thought to myself, "I can't believe I'm doing something relaxing--in public--with both my kids and no help from Matt. This is soooo nice."

I should think twice before I think this way again. I should've known that this is just asking for trouble.

Jack, who is still in the middle of potty training, and thus wearing pull-ups when we're out in public, decided to hide behind a pillar on the Starbucks patio to take care of business. I peeked around the pillar, Jane in one hand and a half-drunk latte in the other, only to find Jack making THAT face. You know: the one of deep concentration and physical strain. The mid-poop face.

Well, that 5 minutes of peace was all I needed, I suppose. I definitely wasn't going to change him inside Starbucks and ruin the ambiance for every coffee-drinker left in his wake. So I opened the back of my Ford Escape, pulled out my arsenal of a diaper bag and held my breath. I reached for the wipes...only to realize I had none. "You have GOT to be kidding me," I said, out loud to myself and anyone else who would hear me and empathize. I finally found a dried out wipe in the backseat and an inch of water left in a sippy cup and became resourceful. It did the job--not well, I might add--but enough to get him home without sitting in his own filth.

I put everyone back in their carseats, threw the diaper away and drove home while sipping my unfinished latte. How I would've loved to finish it completely on the patio. But then, as I sipped it (all the while getting random wiffs from the back of the car), I laughed out loud and thought, one day, I will look back on moments like this with fondness. And I may even long to relive them in some weird way. The smells, I could do without. But one day, I'll have all the time in the world to finish a latte on the patio, and it will be then that I'll wish I could be interrupted just once by a little boy who could care less about my relaxation.